


Playing Grown-Up

by longleggedgit



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 06:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13607736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longleggedgit/pseuds/longleggedgit
Summary: Takeda struggles to find the balance between acting like a responsible adult authority figure and acting on what he really wants.





	Playing Grown-Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mousapelli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousapelli/gifts).



Takeda usually wasn’t at the gym for morning practice, but he woke up early on Monday, his mind impossible to quiet, and decided it would be better to use that energy toward something productive than to lie in bed staring at the ceiling. When he got there, he realized he had no idea what time morning practice actually started. It must not have been quite _that_ early, because the only other person in the gym was Kageyama.

“Good morning!” Takeda said, interrupting Kageyama setting against the wall. He startled, and the ball bounced off the wall and away, rolling to a stop just in front of Takeda’s shoes.

“Sensei?” Kageyama said. He wiped his face on his arm, then seemed to remember himself, and shifted into a little half-bow. “Good morning.”

“I just thought I’d pop into morning practice for a bit,” Takeda explained. He picked up the ball at his feet. “Do you want me to help with anything?”

Kageyama’s face scrunched up in a way that didn’t do much to hide just how little faith he had in Takeda’s ability to help when it came to volleyball.

“Uh--no, thank you. I’m okay.”

Takeda chuckled; he couldn’t exactly blame him. He tossed the ball back and Kageyama caught it with the barest effort, his arms moving on instinct. He didn’t even have to look at the damn thing. How athletes could do what they did was still a mystery to Takeda, even after two years of supervising the volleyball club.

“You’re here early,” Takeda said.

Kageyama looked suddenly uneasy: his brow furrowed, and his eyes dropped to the floor. With one stiff shoulder, he shrugged.

“Is everything okay?” Takeda asked, frowning. Kageyama wasn’t exactly a stranger to moody-teenager-syndrome, but it had been a while since Takeda had seen him like this. He didn’t retreat into himself as much anymore.

“Fine,” Kageyama mumbled. “Just thinking.”

Well, Takeda knew how that went. “Okay,” he said. “You can just ignore me. Let me know if you need anything.”

He moved back to lean against the wall, arms crossed, and let his mind wander as Kageyama resumed setting. It was funny that Takeda had decided to come here, of all places, to distract himself. After all, he could have gone into the office to tidy up his desk, or his classroom to wipe down the chalkboards, or anywhere, really, other than the exact place where he was reminded most of--

“Sensei?”

Takeda jumped, his heart lodging itself painfully in his throat as he turned to find Ukai staring at him from the doorway.

“Oh!” Takeda said, cheeks going immediately hot. “Ukai! I was just--well! Do you come here often?” It took all the strength he had not to smack himself in the face. “In the morning! I mean!” he chirped, to clarify.

Ukai was approaching him, with purpose, and Takeda forced his mouth shut. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t control the words that were tumbling out of him, any more than the flush in his cheeks or the trembling in his hands. Every moment spent looking at Ukai was a moment remembering the way his mouth had tasted when they’d kissed, warm and wet and sharp with beer and cigarettes. It should have been unpleasant, but was about as far from unpleasant as anything Takeda had ever experienced. He blinked and looked quickly away, back toward Kageyama, who had hesitated at Ukai’s entrance but was now back to setting.

“Uh,” Ukai said, coming to an awkward stop at Takeda’s side, “not really.” Takeda nodded to show he was listening, but refused to look anywhere but at the wall straight ahead. “Sensei,” Ukai said again. His voice went low and quiet. “Can we talk? About, uh. Saturday?”

A bubble of panic rose, and exploded, in Takeda’s chest. “Saturday!” he exclaimed, too loud. Kageyama stopped setting again, shooting a confused look over his shoulder. Takeda forced his voice down to a more reasonable volume. “Right,” he said. “Of course. Or rather, it’s just that--”

He faltered, waiting until Kageyama seemed sufficiently distracted, using the pause as an excuse to race through the dozen or so responses that came to mind. _It’s just that we were very, very drunk,_ was one. Or, _It’s just that I’ve been trying to keep myself from crawling into your lap like a horny teenager for over a year now, and I’m not proud that I finally broke,_ was another. And finally, more to the point, _It’s just that we are two adult male authority figures responsible for a group of young people, and it is our job to set a good example._

“It’s just that, I don’t think now is a very good time,” Takeda decided on eventually, a coward’s way out. They could have stepped outside and they both knew it. He risked a glance at Ukai, because it would have been unfair not to, and instantly wished he hadn’t.

“Yeah,” Ukai said, bowing his head, too late to hide how miserable he’d looked. “All right. Later, then.”

Takeda bit his lip, fighting hard not to call after Ukai as he walked back toward the entrance. Before he could cross the threshold, Hinata bounced through the doors in front of him, as much a ball of noisy energy at six a.m. as he ever was in the afternoon.

“Oh, Coach--hey! What’s going on? Why is everyone here so early? Is it a special morning practice? Does that mean we get breakfast?”

Kageyama stopped setting at once, and the ball, yet again, bounced away from him, rolling this time toward Hinata and Ukai. Hinata picked it up and raised it over his head.

“Hey, Kageyama! Why did you leave so early and not tell me? You’re trying to get in more practice time! I won’t let you beat me!”

Kageyama looked like a startled animal, all wide eyes and raised hackles. He made an unhappy grunting noise, then abruptly stomped off toward the exit leading to the bathrooms.

“Hey!” Hinata shouted again, but Kageyama had already disappeared through the doors.

Ukai patted Hinata on the head, once, and followed Kageyama’s example, stepping out the main entrance. It was just Hinata and Takeda then, alone in a gym that suddenly felt very large and empty.

Hinata frowned, looking from one set of doors to the other as he lowered the ball. “What’s going on?” he asked.

Takeda took a deep breath and arranged his mouth into what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I think everyone’s just grumpy this morning,” he said, almost convincing enough that he could fool himself, too. “Come on, I’ll buy you a meat bun.”

  


It was difficult, but not impossible, to make it through afternoon practices without letting on that something was wrong. If Takeda and Ukai stood just a little more than shoulder-length apart, it was still close enough to comment on technique without actually being _close,_ and to get them all the way to Thursday without the team noticing anything. It did nothing, however, to ease the tangled knot that was Takeda’s stomach.

They hadn’t talked about it. Not Monday, not any day after. And that was for the best, Takeda reminded himself, over and over again, every night as he was trying to fall asleep. There was no _sorting_ this, no solution that didn’t end in even worse heartbreak than they were currently enduring. But knowing that did nothing to make it easier, and sleep, for Takeda, was growing harder to come by. He had near-permanent dark bags under his eyes by now, and his lessons were suffering on top of that. Ukai, for his part, looked jittery and bloodshot most afternoons, rather like he wasn’t sleeping much, either.

Taked risked a side-glance at him now, and his heart stuttered to find Ukai doing the same; they both jolted and moved just slightly farther apart.

“Kageyama!” came a shout from the court, thankfully drawing Ukai’s attention before he could notice Takeda’s flush. “What is _wrong_ with you lately?”

It was Hinata who had shouted, and Ukai, eyes narrowed, stepped in to intervene. Takeda felt his eyes narrowing, too, likely for the same reason as Ukai: Hinata might have been out of line, but he wasn’t wrong. Kageyama _had_ been off lately, for a week or more, and he was steadfastly refusing to talk about it. It was frustrating, especially after having watched him make so much progress in teamwork and communication since his early days in the club. Takeda wondered if he was falling back into old habits.

Ukai pulled Hinata aside for a short, private word, then called out to everyone, “Let’s take five!”

The rest of the team shuffled away, looking confused but grateful for the excuse to escape the tense atmosphere of the court, and Ukai resumed lecturing Hinata. Kageyama turned away, following those who had left, his face downcast.

“Kageyama,” Takeda called, “wait a minute.”

His every movement screamed reluctance, but Kageyama did as he was told, approaching Takeda with his head still bowed. “Sensei,” he said, voice rough.

“Kageyama,” Takeda said again. “I’m worried about you.”

Kageyama’s frown twisted down even further, but he said nothing.

“What’s wrong?” Takeda said. “It’s fine if you’re just having an off week. But this seems bigger than that. Do you have anything you want to talk about?”

He thought he saw Kageyama flinch, like the very idea of talking was a physical threat. “I--” he said, hesitating, casting a quick glance--that Takeda nevertheless did not miss--in the direction of Hinata and Ukai. “No,” he said, after a beat.

Takeda raised one eyebrow. “Did you and Hinata have a fight again?”

This time, Kageyama’s cheeks bloomed instantly with color, and his eyes went wide. He didn’t seem able to speak; instead, he just shook his head in vigorous denial.

That reaction puzzled Takeda, but by now he was fairly well-versed in knowing when a teenager was reaching a breaking point, so he didn’t push. He gave Kageyama a short squeeze on the shoulder and took a step back.

“Okay. But remember, you can talk to me if you need to. Or any of us.”

Kageyama scowled at the floor, hovering there a moment longer. He turned his head from side to side, as if checking to make sure no one could overhear them, and opened his mouth.

At that exact moment, Hinata called out across the court.

“Hey! Kageyama! I’m sorry I yelled at you!”

He was jogging over now, Ukai watching with his arms crossed. Kageyama tensed, obviously ready to bolt, but managed to hold himself in place long enough to produce a response.

“It’s fine,” he grumbled. And then, “I’m going to the bathroom.” Without another word, he left.

Hinata frowned after him, but just shrugged before joining the other students for a water break on the sidelines. Takeda and Ukai made concerned eye contact.

“Do you think they had an argument?” Ukai asked, when he returned to Takeda’s side.

“I don’t know. Kageyama said they didn’t, but...he’s definitely hiding something. Did Hinata have anything enlightening to say?”

Ukai shook his head. “He seems as confused as we are.”

“Well, I hope they can have a real conversation at some point. Nothing is going to get solved if they just ignore it.”

The words were only out of his mouth for a few seconds before Takeda realized his hypocrisy, and flushed. Ukai, graciously, said nothing, but he was frowning very thoughtfully down at the floor.

“Five minutes are up!” he shouted, before Takeda could fumble his way into an apology.

The second half of practice went only marginally better than the first. Kageyama recovered some of his game sense, but only some, and he and Hinata continued moving awkwardly around each other, to the point that even Tsukishima eventually clicked his tongue and remarked that he’d like their old idiot duo back. Which ended practice with a Hinata-Tsukishima scuffle, but that, at least, was friendly and familiar enough.

Takeda hovered around the back of the gym as the last of the kids filed out, suddenly anxious. He and Ukai hadn’t made eye contact since the break, and now the air felt thick with anticipation. Ukai was scratching a few notes on a pad of paper, but in short, distracted bursts, like he was having a hard time concentrating. Takeda picked up the last few forgotten volleyballs, put them in the cart, and then busied himself arranging them, because he could think of nothing else to do. Finally, he looked up. Ukai was watching him.

“Ukai,” Takeda said, surprised at how short of breath he sounded. He hadn’t noticed his heart rate picking up until now.

Ukai didn’t respond, but he also didn’t turn away when Takeda abandoned the volleyball cart and moved cautiously toward him.

“I’m,” Takeda started, looking into Ukai’s eyes once they were close and finding their closeness very overwhelming. He looked down, wrung his hands, and forced himself to go on. “I’m really very bad at this.”

“It doesn’t have to be hard,” Ukai said.

Takeda couldn’t help but laugh at that, although it was more of a hiccup than a laugh, and didn’t sound particularly amused. “No?”

“No,” Ukai said. He caught Takeda’s hands, surprising him, but not unpleasantly. Takeda let himself be pulled in, resting his forehead on Ukai’s chest. “Sensei. Ittetsu.” Takeda shivered at the sound of his name. “We both want this. Why not just give it an honest chance?”

That really _did_ make it sound easy. As easy as it had been to climb into Ukai’s lap after a few beers on Saturday and kiss him, hands on either side of his jaw, fierce and deep. Ukai had opened his mouth immediately, grabbed at Takeda’s waist with encouraging hands that made it clear they had _both_ been holding back for a while. Takeda exhaled hard at the memory, a shuddering breath.

“I haven’t actually _dated_ very much. You know,” he said. Quiet.

He felt Ukai laugh a little. “Well. Me neither, if you’re talking actual dating. That’s not a problem.”

Now Ukai’s thumbs were stroking over Takeda’s hands, in a way that was extremely distracting and unfair. “No, but,” Takeda said, struggling to produce any language at all, when all he wanted was to bury his face in Ukai’s collarbone. “That’s not the only--what about the team? What if they--what would we--”

Ukai sighed, heavily, the motion making Takeda’s entire body rise and fall with his chest. Then he dropped Takeda’s hands, and lifted his own, to frame Takeda’s face. There was nowhere to look but directly into Ukai’s eyes, and that was overwhelming, but nice also. Why were his eyes so nice?

“I don’t know,” Ukai said. “But is that question going to be the only thing guiding every romantic decision you make for the rest of your life?”

Takeda’s heart was beating very, very fast now. He didn’t know how to answer. His eyes flicked from Ukai’s--half-lidded, serious, unwavering--down to Ukai’s lips, and back up again, more times than he could count.

“I,” Takeda managed, barely a whisper. His hands found their way to the front of Ukai’s chest, smoothing across his shirt, and Ukai’s eyelids flickered, delightfully. “Ukai, I--”

A clatter sounded from the far corner of the gym, and they jumped apart. Takeda could feel his blood pounding furiously in his ears as he turned to find Kageyama, his water bottle rolling to a stop just in front of him, staring at them both in utter bewilderment.

Ukai cursed, quietly. It brought Takeda back to life, out of his momentary, panicked paralysis.

“Kageyama,” Takeda said, taking a step forward.

“Sorry,” Kageyama said, quickly, bending to grab his water bottle and inching back toward the doors through which he’d come. He had, apparently, been in the bathroom all this time. “Sorry--I, uh--sorry--”

He disappeared through the doors before either Takeda or Ukai could say another word.

“Damn it,” Takeda gasped, taking a moment to scrub his face with his hands. “Okay. Okay. I’ll, um. I’m going to go talk to him.”

“Do you think that’s…” Ukai began, but he didn’t finish.

“I have no idea,” Takeda said, because he really didn’t. He just knew it had to happen, because, like it or not, he was a grown-up, and that was his job. “Just--I’m sorry. Just. Will you wait here? Please?”

Ukai nodded, and Takeda left him, trying not to think too hard about what this could mean for them.

Kageyama was standing at the sink when Takeda entered, somewhat to Takeda’s surprise; he had been expecting him to try to hide. Instead, Kageyama turned fully to face him, and his expression was serious, focused, like he sometimes got just before an important tournament. There were several things Takeda had been rehearsing saying in his head, but it all died before he could get it out, stunned into silence by Kageyama’s face.

“Sensei,” Kageyama said. His cheeks were a little red, but still, he gave off an air of intense resolve. “You and Coach Ukai are…?” He trailed off, wavering somewhat, but still steadfast, focused.

That was a difficult question to answer, for a number of reasons, and yet, Takeda found the reply came surprisingly fast. “Yes,” he said.

Kageyama’s cheeks were reddening faster, but he didn’t look away. “So you can...do that?”

Takeda blinked. This hadn’t been the question he’d been expecting. “I--” Takeda hesitated. “Do you mean--”

“Two men,” Kageyama clarified. “That’s okay?”

 _Oh._ Understanding washed over Takeda in a tidal wave, and he felt at once relieved, and sorry, and, inexplicably, a little giddy. “Oh,” he said, out loud, resting a hand against the doorframe, because he’d been knocked entirely off-balance. _“Yes,_ Kageyama. It’s okay. It’s--”

He was flushing now, too, and he knew it, but that was fine. Suddenly, maybe everything was fine. “It’s only important that you love each other. You shouldn’t ever worry about anything else.”

Kageyama nodded. He had stopped looking directly at Takeda now, gazing distantly at the sinks, calculating. “I have to go,” he announced, eyes widening, like he had just surprised himself.

He took two steps forward, but paused in front of Takeda, awkward. “Um. Sensei. Thank you.”

And then he was gone, running down the hall and pushing straight through the gym doors, probably, knowing Kageyama, not stopping for anything until he reached exactly what--or who--he was looking for. Takeda shook his head, dazed, and inhaled deeply, before letting it all go.

When he made it back to the gym, Ukai was frowning at the entrance.

“Was he--” Ukai started, but Takeda didn’t let him finish. He pulled him in by the front of his shirt, ran a hand through his hair, and kissed him hard.

“Would you like to come over?” Takeda asked, the moment their mouths parted, a little cruelly, since Ukai seemed to still be struggling very hard to work out just what was going on.

Still, he didn’t look displeased at the invitation, by any means. “Yes,” Ukai said, only a little breathless. “Now?”

“Now,” Takeda affirmed, slipping his hand into Ukai’s and leading him toward the door. They had, after all, already wasted plenty of time.

  


For the first time in a week, Takeda had to drag himself out of bed at the sound of his alarm, blinking against exhaustion and disorientation. Ukai’s arm, slung heavy over his waist, woke him up in a hurry, though, and he gave himself a brief moment to revel in stunned happiness before he had to move, rolling over to the bedside table to silence his clock.

Ukai groaned and buried his face in the bare skin between Takeda’s shoulder blades. “What time is it?”

“Five-thirty,” Takeda said. He turned and pushed his fingers through Ukai’s hair-- _Ukai’s hair,_ sex-tousled and wild and gorgeous, oh that was _nice_ \--and smiled at his answering grunt.

 _“Five-thirty?”_ Ukai repeated, eyes still tightly closed. “Fuck. Is that a time people wake up?”

“You can go back to sleep,” Takeda reassured him, but when he bent in to kiss Ukai’s forehead, he found himself suddenly trapped in a bear-hug.

“Mm,” Ukai said, nuzzling his mouth in close to Takeda’s neck. “I have a better idea.”

It was the first time Takeda was late to the office in his entire career, and the added stress of having to apologize while trying to hide the evidence of why he’d been delayed--actual, honest-to-god _hickeys,_ they really _were_ teenagers--had almost unraveled him. And yet, none of it, the lack of sleep nor the lateness nor the embarrassment, could put a damper on Takeda’s mood. His lessons were delivered with almost giddy enthusiasm, to the point that several students came up to ask him if he had a fever at the end of class. By the time it was the end of the school day and time for volleyball club, Takeda was actually whistling, the entire way from his classroom to the gym. He never whistled, was quite literally tone-deaf, but there it was.

And there Ukai was, standing in his usual place on the sidelines, glancing up and swallowing visibly when Takeda walked in.

“Sensei,” Ukai said by way of greeting. Takeda just beamed, and Ukai finally turned away, color creeping up his neck.

“Let’s get started!” he shouted, two minutes before they were technically scheduled to begin. They were a good group, though, and no one complained, even when they were told their warm-up was flying receives. In fact, morale was the best it had been all week, and it was hard to miss why.

Kageyama was back. His sullenness had disappeared, and in its place a focused sort of calm had settled, his every movement fluid, as _on_ as he had ever been, in any of their best games. He seemed happy, too; Takeda caught him smiling once or twice, privately, a very small thing, but it was warming to watch.

“Hinata’s a little clumsy today, don’t you think?” Ukai said, leaning in close during a scrimmage. His breath was warm next to Takeda’s ear--no more shoulder-length distance between them--and Takeda had to fight hard not to shiver too obviously.

Hinata had indeed been clumsy, and distracted, since the start. His eyes were locked on Kageyama’s back now, almost causing him to miss a receive when it came right to him. When he managed to fumble it into the air at the last minute, Kageyama shouted a short word of encouragement, and Hinata actually jumped half a meter off the ground, his entire face going the color of a ripe plum.

Takeda bit his lip, turning his head so he wouldn’t laugh too obviously. “I think he’ll be fine,” Takeda said. He lifted his hand and let it rest, just for a moment, on the small of Ukai’s back. “Everyone is going to be fine.”

Takeda dropped his hand and smiled, glad to realize how certain he was of it. When he looked up, Ukai was smiling back.

**Author's Note:**

> I went with the "adults faking being adults and having awkward feelings" prompt and ran with it...hope you enjoy, and hope you don't mind a little background Kagehina! :) (I was going to make it background Asahi/Suga for you, but I kind of thought Kageyama was the only one who would be dumb enough to not be able to work this "feelings" shit out on his own. Forgive me.)


End file.
